


Moirails Can Totally Watch Porn Together, Right?

by DerGhostiest



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bodily Fluids, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Intersex, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 04:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerGhostiest/pseuds/DerGhostiest
Summary: You and your moirail, one Ms. Kanaya Maryam, settle in for a movie night after a long week. But you find that your night might be much better spent attending to certain recently-unfulfilled needs. A Reader x character story with lots of fluff, lots of smut, and you both have two working sets of junk because that's how I roll.





	1. IN WHICH YOU DON'T QUITE ENJOY A MOVIE

**Author's Note:**

> Mentioned in the summary, but you and Kanaya both have two functional genital sets, just because. Please enjoy.

It was about seven months ago that your moirail, a certain Ms. Kanaya Maryam, moved into your apartment. Initially you justified it on financial grounds - Kanaya’s tailoring dayjob didn’t pay much and her etsy career hadn’t quite taken off yet, while you had been struggling with payments ever since your last roommate had a bit of a spades-spat with his kismesis and got evicted for turning the fridge into a nuclear blast zone that had to be removed by hazmat-clad municipal workers. To this day you have difficulty explaining that series of events.

As is natural for moirails, even troll-human pairs, you discovered that you were perfect complements as roommates. Kanaya kept the apartment impeccably clean and tidy, even before you bought _The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up_ for her last birthday. Afterwards the place was so spotlessly orderly that you swore you could eat off of it. You considered it once or twice. Kanaya also insisted on taking charge of both of your laundry. At first you felt very condescended to, but you quickly realized Kanaya’s laundering skills far outshone anything your pitiful can’t-separate-colors-from-whites ass could hope to achieve.

For your part, you turned out to be a much better cook than you had imagined, and happily took grocery shopping, meal prep, and dishes duty for your own. That isn’t to say you _haven’t_ filled the entire apartment complex with smoke before, but all great chefs accidentally evacuate a building at least once in their careers. You also sort the mail and keep track of bills, rent, and whatever other payments come in, and you turned out to be the better of the two when dealing with your human landlord. Something about the way he clutches the cross around his neck while nervously eyeing your moirail’s horns made you the right choice.

You and Kanaya found a reasonable balance in your social lives, spending some nights talking until sunrise and others in your rooms, ignoring each other entirely. Occasionally you would bring friends over. Kanaya liked to host low-key tea parties, and less frequently, raucous LAN parties. You were always amazed how competitive she could get at Stardew Valley; you rarely joined in, but often found yourself fulfilling your moirail duties by massaging her shoulders and reminding her to breathe when she was overcome by rage regarding proper crop placement. Kanaya would sit in on your D&D group, preferring to watch than play but happily offering tactical advice when asked. She was _almost_ always right, and you were glad to have her there. One time, she even roleplayed your Raven familiar, Mrs. Morrigan McElwester, by doing her best Aradia impression. Aradia still isn’t sure why Kanaya squawks quietly when she sees her or why you find it so funny.

For a while, Kanaya would bring her girlfriend Rose over for an evening. You got to like her, but never felt like you could get too close. She kept you at an equal distance. Sometimes Kanaya would kick you out of the house when Rose came over for “flushed reasons,” which you thought meant Rose had some sort of embarrassing gastro-intestinal issue until you learned more about the whole quadrant thing.

You hadn’t seen Rose lately. Kanaya and her had broken up a couple months back, something that came as much a shock to you as it did her. It was a terrible night, when your moirail had stormed home, eyes puffy and cheeks streaked wet with tears and mascara, and walked in on you getting your groove on with a highblood you had met at a party. You had done the right thing, of course: comforted your aching moirail until she had worked through her sorrow enough for you to go get your pants. You spent the rest of the night holding her and letting her cry it out until she was ready for bed. The next few days were spent getting rid of everything that reminded Kanaya of Rose, including several expensive bottles of wine that Kanaya spitefully poured down the drain while listening to some very aggressive Alternian music. You tried not to mind; you had planned to give up drinking anyway. Still, you couldn’t quite shake something that seemed cosmically _off_ about the breakup, as though you were in some deviant timeline and in the correct one they stayed together.

As for your highblood lover, you would find time in the next month to continue where you left off. But that’s a different lemon so hold your fucking horses.

Tonight, there was no talk of Rose. You and Kanaya were having a great night. It was a Friday, and it was mutually agreed that this had been “A Long Week,” and you both had had “A Rough Day,” and you both “Needed (“-a hard dicking.” “What.” “What?”) This Week To Be Over Already.” So you elected to order out and veg on the couch. You set your laptop up on the coffee table, called your favorite restaurant for the two-dinner special, and handed the phone to Kanaya to order two pints of ice cream from the stoner dessert-delivery place. When it had all arrived, Kanaya put the two pints into the freezer and grabbed a pair of plates and a handful of silverware. She turned the corner from the kitchen into the living room to find you scarfing your half of the food straight from the container. You grinned sheepishly, cheeks bulging and food no doubt seeping unattractively between your teeth. She rolled her eyes and returned your plate to its cabinet.

And here, dear reader, we arrive at the present.

“What Shall We Watch Tonight?” Kanaya asks, plopping onto the couch next to you with a bounce. She holds out her plate and carefully spoons a small, responsible portion of her meal onto it.

“I’m feeling something funny,” you say, scrolling down Netflix’s front page.

“Perhaps You Should Have That Analyzed By A Competent Medical Practitioner.”

“Kanaya, you are way too proper for those dad jokes to land right.”

“Whatever Do You Mean?”

“I _mean_ ,” you say, furrowing your brows in concentration as you watch your “List” slowly slide across the screen, hoping one will spark your interest. Despite the purpose of this list being a collection of things you intend to watch, they never spark anything approaching interest and you usually just end up watching The Office or Parks & Recreation for the eighth time. “I mean… I mean help me pick something.”

“Not The Office For The Eighth Time.”

“What about-”

“Not Parks & Recreation, Either. I Do Not Like How They Treat Jerry.”

“The way they treat him is the joke.”

“It Is Not A Good Joke.”

You fall back onto the couch. From within its comfortable green folds, half your face peeks out to give Kanaya an expectant look. She looks at you, slowly chewing a piece of… of whatever she ordered. You don’t look at the menu outside of your go-to’s. You hadn’t even known her order was an option until she pointed to it.

“What?”

You toss one splayed hand toward the laptop and grunt. She sighs, places her plate gingerly on an oversized coaster, and takes up the trackpad. After a few moments, she points.

“This One Will Do.”

You cast her an incredulous look. “300? _Really_?”

“Yes. It Looks Interesting. And The Title Is So…” Kanaya’s gaze wanders off to the side, as though she might find the word she’s looking for squatting in the corner of the room.

“Succinct,” she says finally, with satisfaction. “The Mysterious Vagary Of Earth Cinema’s Titles Is So Fascinating.”

“Well,” you say through a mouthful of food, dribbling some of it into the container held to your chest. “I guess the point is to try and get the jist of the movie in as few words as possible.”

Kanaya considers this while chewing her own bite. She waits to swallow to respond.

“There Is An Art To It.”

Kanaya starts the movie and you both settle in to watch the mediocre movie adaptation of a mediocre comic book. It is an outrageous, crass, and beautifully silly display of blood, violence, one-liners, hyper-masculinity, and…

And…

Wow, there are a lot of attractive people in this movie.

You try to brush that from your mind and instead point your focus on the sheer cascade of problematic elements in the film, mentally organizing them to compose a later Tumblr essay. Or, a… Wattpad essay? You’re not really sure where to post your feminist media critiques anymore. Maybe you’ll start a YouTube channel.

But _damn_ did you forget how hot and naked everyone is in this movie.

Something about the rippling muscles and the shapely curves puts you in mind of that highblood fling. Brief visions of your last encounter flash through your mind, followed hot by visions of things you _wish_ had happened in that encounter.

You feel a heat reach between your cheeks and your legs at the same time, and a soft, slight movement against your inner leg tells you a certain, beloved bit of your anatomy is going to be visible through your pajamas if you don’t pull the emergency brake on this train of thought _right now_.

You shift your legs and pull your food down to cover your lap. Almost instinctively, you fire a furtive glance Kanaya’s direction, as though your moirail could see your memories and would be eyeing you in stern judgement.

Instead, Kanaya seems to have chosen this moment to glance guiltily your way. You make brief, intense eye contact, just long enough for you to notice the shade of green spreading across her nose and cheeks and her hands folded politely and firmly in her lap. The plate, still with food, was placed uncharacteristically on the cushion between you.

Your eyes dart back to the screen, or somewhere near it. Is Kanaya _also_ remembering some past tryst? An intimate moment with Rose? Or one of her other potential… what did she call her lovers? Mattsprites? You think you’d have this troll terminology down by now.

Come to think of it, was the last time you had sex with the highblood? When was the last time Kanaya had sex? Well, you didn’t know for sure, but she’d never _mentioned_ anything. Good God, you think, are we really both _so_ in need right now that _300_ is revving up our sex drives? Maybe you should call that highblood again, you still have their number...

Kanaya coughs politely, bringing you back to reality.

“I, uh…”

“Me Too.” 

You both giggle and manage to cast each other some more knowing side-eyes, unable to fully look each other in the face, but you’re at least happy the tension has broken.

“I Am So Embarrassed,” she admits, heaving a sigh and looking away from you with a sheepish smile, one hand to her cheek.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “Guess it’s, uh, guess it’s been a while for both of us, huh?”

Kanaya nods. Her lower lip tucks under her upper teeth and she inhales, softly but sharply. “Long Enough. I Did Not Expect Simple Nudity To, Well…”

She coughs, uncrossing and crossing her legs. You notice an unaccounted-for bulging in her skirt as she does so.

“Maybe we should, uh, head to our rooms for a little bit,” you offer. “As your moirail, I insist you take care of yourself.”

She giggles, and somehow manages to look you in the eye, even if only from the side. “Very Noble Of You.”

She stops, biting her cheek in thought. Her gaze turns fully your way, turns fully away, then back to you. You wait expectantly, eyebrows raised, as she opens her mouth just a bit to speak, then clamps it shut again.

“What’s up?”

Kanaya clears her throat. “Well, I… I Had An Idea. But It Is Very Inappropriate And-”

“What?”

“No, It - It Is Silly.”

You grin. “Silly and inappropriate sounds right up my alley, Kan. What’s up?”

She bites her lip. You often forget how cute it is when she does that, especially with the fang poking out over the front. Her head goes from hanging to look almost over her shoulder, then swings around to look back at you.

“It Was Just A Passing Thought, And I Do Not Want To Seem Inappropriate, And You Must Understand It Really Was Simply Something That Crossed My Mind For Only A Moment-”

“Uh-huh.”

“-But It Occurred To Me That, You Know, While We Have The Laptop Here In Front Of Us-”

Her face is turning every shade of green imaginable. “Mhmmmm.”

“-We Perhaps Need Not Retire To Our Rooms To, Um… To…”

You blink, wrapping your mind around the obvious implication. “You wanna watch porn together?”

The shades of green, now covering her entire face and creeping down her neck, bloom into new vibrant hues. She coughs like she’s choking on the words and looks deep into her plate of food.

“It Is A Thing Some Human Friends Do Together, I Understand,” Kanaya says quickly. You chuckle.

“Yeah, like, as a funny thing. Watching bad porn for laughs. Human friends don’t usually, uhm, y’know.” You pantomime something crude. “ _Jack it_.”

“Yes, Of Course. No, I Should Not Have Said Anything. It Was Silly. Very Silly. I Am Being Silly. Not That Spending Time With You Is Silly. I Trust You, Of Course, I Have No Reason Not To Trust You And Every Reason To. You Are My Moirail, And As Moirails We Can Share Many Intimate And Strange Thoughts-”

She continues like that for a bit, trying to cover her tracks but only managing to dig herself deeper into the mud. Well, you almost hate to admit it, but it wasn’t _that_ uncomfortable a suggestion. Human friends certainly do watch porn together sometimes. And, hell, some human friends get _busy_ without anything romantic between them. Needs, y’know. And you both have needs right now, don’t you?

Wait, are you really trying to rationalize masturbating with your moirail? Did you even consider _not_ doing that? Are you that thirsty right now? Apparently so, because the next words out of your mouth are a lot bolder than you thought they’d be.

“Well,” you begin, interrupting Kanaya’s free-association apology. “We’re not _only_ human friends, you know. We’re moirails. We’re a lot closer than most human friends.”

Her head droops to her chest. “I… Suppose You Have A Point.”

You smile, still not fully able to look at her. “Yeah, dude, like… IDK.” You say the letters I-D-K. “We’re basically like best friends with the added responsibility of balancing each others massive character defects. Like two parts of the same person. Doesn’t get much closer than that.”

You clear your throat, to give yourself a moment to build the courage for what’s coming next. “If I can’t jerk off with my other half in the room, who can I jerk off with?”

A snort of laughter escapes her, which she quickly tries to cover up with a polite hand to her mouth. “I Suppose You _Do_ Have A Point.”

Her gaze hesitantly slides from her food to you. “Are You… Certain? I Know We Have Already Seen Each Other In The Nude-”

“In the nude _and_ mid-groove-on,” you point out. “I don’t want to bring up any bad memories, but you have walked in on me in the midst of rocking worlds.”

She laughs and nods. The green that had been seeping out of her cheeks returns only slightly. “Had I Been In A State To Consider It, I Imagine I Would Have Been Exquisitely Impressed By Your No-Doubt Flawless Technique.” 

You choose to ignore what is probably sarcasm.

“I May Even Have Encouraged You As You Do Your Favorite Team In Human Ice Disk Slapping Competitions.”

Now it’s your turn to snort. “Well there, see? If you think you can cheer me on while I bang a highblood, I think we can handle sitting on a couch together and relieving our needs.”

_Why are you doing this?_ yells a voice from somewhere in the back row of your mental theater. _Do you think this is going to end in sex, or are you so thirsty that the thought of someone being any kind of sexual in the same room as you is getting you going?_ You motion for your mental security guards to move, and they drag the heckler out of your mental theater. Now is not the time for thinking about reasonable concerns.

To be fair to yourself, most of the blood you use for thinking is presently being hidden between your legs. Nothing is going to be hidden much longer if you don’t get a towel, though.

Kanaya nods. “I Do Think We Can.”

She pauses, hesitant, and rises to her feet. She makes a vain effort to hide the bulge in her skirt with one hand. “I Am Going To Get A Pair Of Towels. I Believe It Is Your Turn To Choose The Movie.”


	2. IN WHICH YOU GET A FACE FULL OF ALIEN WING-WONG

Kanaya and you sit next to each other on the couch, facing the laptop. You started off about as far apart on the little two-seater as you could sit, but slowly, naturally, your bodies moved closer and closer until you sit a little less than a foot apart. You had both started with excuses about “finding a comfortable position” but as of fifteen minutes ago neither of you had bothered with explanations. Right now, your feet grip the edge of the coffee table, legs splayed. Your pants and underpants were long ago exiled from your right leg, and hung from your left out of sheer laziness. Kanaya had initially rolled up her skirt, but at this point it was folded neatly on the carpet next to the couch with her panties sitting flat on top of it. Her feet are both planted solidly on the floor, and she’s slid down so that the back of the couch props up only her head and upper back - the rest of her is parallel to the floor.

Well. Not  _ all _ the rest of her.

Troll ‘bulges’ don’t usually have a lot in common with human ones, but being a jade-blood, Kanaya’s got some special biology going on. At this moment, her right hand is cupped around that same special biology, rubbing clean circles around the pale green head, then gliding down to the base of the grey-white shaft it sits atop, and back again. You try not to stare, but you haven’t been able to help sneaking glances. It’s a lovely shape, smooth and strong and thick, as beautiful a dick as you ever saw. Kanaya’s present position lets you see the whole thing, thrust as it is toward the ceiling.

Her other hand is mostly obscured by her bare leg. She has at least one finger sliding up inside her, but you wouldn’t be able to tell exactly how many without making a noticeable effort. Considering the wet sounds coming from the same place, you know that however many fingers she’s got going, they’re doing their job furiously.

Kanaya’s towel has been moved to the floor to accommodate her position. It’s much needed. A steady stream of pale, nearly clear liquid streams from both holes. A fair bit more drips - almost splashes - from the one between her legs than the one over them. While the fluid flowing in little rivers down her dick is less abundant, her hand has been working it into almost a lather that makes her whole member shine in the laptop light.

God, you want to put it in your mouth.

Your own towel has a considerable stain spreading under your butt. Humans don’t produce quite the same amount of material as trolls do, for better or worse, but you’re thankful for the barrier between you and the couch. Your left hand dips quickly between your legs. You slide your crooked index and middle fingers inside yourself and flick your fingers against the textured inner wall. You allow a small moan to escape your mouth, partly hoping it’ll get lost in the noise of the video on screen and partly not giving a good god damn anymore.

Your other hand grips your chest as your first slides back out of yourself, slick fingers wrapping around your shaft. You use your natural lubricant as it was intended, smoothing the slide up and down your dick. For most of the past twenty minutes - and most of the times you have to get off - you prefer to focus on your vagina, but seeing and  _ hearing _ your moirail in veritable heat next to you has hardened your rod to the point of pain. It’s rare that you’re so horny that your dick screams to be touched like this, and there’s little you can do to calm it but acquiesce.   


A loud moan escapes Kanaya as her head rolls back, horns scraping the fabric of the couch. You can’t help but quiver at the sound. Something surges through your entire lower body, for a moment you think you’re going to cum from the outcry alone.

Fuck it, you can’t help it anymore. You look at Kanaya, and if she sees you, then she sees you. She’s panting hard, body shaking. Small moans and sharp gasps punctuate each ragged breath. Her hands are furious blurs of hooked and circular motions, the noise of skin on skin louder than the laptop. She struggles to control her legs, light spasms and small kicks and tremors escaping her. A light sheen of sweat covers her face, green tinted coloring her cheeks and nose. Her eyes are closed.

Then suddenly, they’re not. Half-lidded, her eyes are glazed over, and for a moment she still seems to see nothing. Then the corners of her mouth quiver upwards, struggling to form a smile.

“What Is Up?” she asks breathlessly. You smile. One of the few human slang phrases she’s adopted.

“Just, y’know,” you start, interrupted almost immediately by a sharp spike of pleasure. “J-just silently cheering on my moirail.”

“You Are Hardly Silent Over There,” she gasps. Then, seeing the embarrassment creeping onto your face, she adds, “I Do Not Mind.”

The heat flushing your face turns up a notch at that.

“Oh, you-” You try to hold in a moan. “-you admitting you like hearing your-” You moan. “-your moirail jack off, you weirdo?”

She grins. She must have made it past that last wave of pleasure, because she’s able to get a full sentence out when she speaks. She leans a bit closer to you, until her head is almost on your shoulder, cocking it up a bit so the sharp tips of her horns miss your head.

“Perhaps I Enjoyed Hearing You Copulate With The Highblood, As Well,” she murmurs.

Your heart skips a beat. She must have noticed, because a smug smile immediately lights up her face.

“Y-you, wha-” you manage to stammer, characteristic wit lost in a howling storm of confusion and being more turned on than you have in your life.

“You Were Not Exactly Silent Then, Either,” she says, the smugness dripping from her voice. Oh, she’s enjoying this. She leans in just a little closer, her voice just a little lower. “I Hope You Do Not Think It Improper, But I Could Not Help But To…”

She inhales quickly and sharply from a sudden spike of pleasure, a short gasp escaping between words and into your ear. Your whole body quivers, as though shivering in the tempest of her breath.

“...Touch Myself.”

You bite your lip to stifle the rising raggedness of your breathing, but there’s nothing you can do to stop the remainder of your blood rushing to parts presently  _ very _ known.   


From some deep reserve pull up the courage to look your moirail in the face. There’s a dark confidence twinkling in her eye, a sadistic arousal biting at her lip, although the solid shade of green covering her face betrays the smallest lingering vulnerability. Her chest heaves with each breath. Her hands have slowed from a frothing boil to a moderate simmer of motion.   


She’s beautiful, and a little scary. A small voice in the back of your head wonders what happened to all that stammering hesitation from earlier, and then that voice  _ shuts up  _ because it wants to get laid. You clear your throat, channeling that fear and arousal into the courage to respond.

“You know the ins and outs of this moirail thing better than I do, Kan,” you say, and a primal confidence surges from your loins into your voice. You adjust yourself subtly, giving you the leverage to close the distance between your lips.

“You tell  _ me _ what’s  _ improper _ ,” you say breathlessly.   


Her gaze passes over your lips before rising back to meet your eyes. She pauses, only breathing and looking from one of your eyes to the other.

“ _ This _ ,” she says.

Her black lips press into yours, hungry and powerful. The strength of her desire forces your mouth open, her tongue grasping, aching to meet yours. You’re taken aback for a only a moment before you meet her strength with your own. You tighten your lips to force her tongue back out, giving yourself a moment to catch up.

Your mouths meet and release and meet again; her lips always just that much more open than yours, tongue seeking the barest hole between your lips in hope of entrance. Kanaya sits up to get a better angle, one sticky hand grabbing your head, pressing into your hair behind the ear to pull you in tighter. A muffled gasp forces open your mouth, and Kanaya’s tongue rushes in to fill the space. This time, it’s all you want.   


You don’t know when one of your hands got to her waist, but you use it to pull into her as she pulls into you. You barely register how hard you’re both breathing. Your open lips are pressed together as your tongues explore each other’s mouths, only pulling away to come together again in new and exciting positions, each one an experiment in how much closer you can get, how much more  _ inside _ each other you can become. It’s like every gap between your molecules is an offense to your sensibilities.

You’re chest to chest with her now, one arm finding stability on the back of the couch while the other wraps around to the small of her back. Her hand remains latched to the back of your head, the other wedged between you, pressing into your chest with a primeval lust that you can’t help but reciprocate.   


You press together as best you can at the hips, her left leg against your right, the angle forcing an uncomfortable tension in your lower back. Something drips from the head of her dick onto your leg, and suddenly you want nothing more than for _one of you_ _to just_ _get on top of the other already_. You’re not particular about which one.

Kanaya must be thinking the same thing, because she immediately swings one leg over both of yours. You hunker into the couch for stability, leaning back into it, and she slides her grip around your neck and shoulders to bring herself fully into your lap, one knee digging into the cushions on either side.

Your hands wrap around her, resting just above her butt. The sensitive underside of your shafts press together, hers dripping precum onto the tip of yours.

“Dicks touching. It’s gay now, you know,” you say, waggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut Up,” she laughs, and leans in to make you.

The first kisses are gentle, almost caressing your lips. They’re more affectionate than lustful; some piece of your long moirailleigance reasserting itself over the unthinking sexuality of the moment. But it’s not long before the fire returns and your mouths are pushed as far into each other as your anatomy will allow. She embraces your neck and shoulders, chest to chest, waist to waist. You can’t help but raise your hips by the slightest amount, and she responds in kind. Her hips rock into yours, picking up a tempo you rush to catch up to. Her breath catches the first time you press in with both hips and hands, and you grunt satisfactorily into your kiss.

The rocking tempo picks up naturally, no conscious thought on either of your part guiding the pace. She grinds against your bulge, letting the lips of her opening glide around its length but never letting it in. You both grunt and moan every few passes, Your lap is drenched in the thick fluids of her arousal, your dick practically submerged.   


Kanaya rocks her hips a little too far forward, coming right over the head of your dick, so that on the pass back she accidentally guides the tip into her opening. You both freeze and gasp quietly at the sudden burst of pleasure. She slides forward again, letting your dick fall back to your lap.   


Kanaya unwraps her arms from you, pressing her hands into your shoulders to push her head and chest out from yours. She inhales slowly and lets it out in a sigh. Her eyes open halfway, and even in the dim lighting of the laptop screen you can clearly see she’s looking away from you. Her fingers tap against your shoulders in anticipation.

“I…” she begins, and then falls silent again. She rocks her head lightly from side to side, as though trying to shake a thought loose.

“I Have Never Done This... With A Bulge,” she says quietly. She looks at you sheepishly, almost pleadingly, though you can’t say for sure  _ what _ she’s pleading for. You take the safe route.

“Do you want to stop?” you say, feeling immediately guilty that an unintentional half-pause before the final word makes you sound a little disappointed. Maybe you are, but Kanaya’s comfort is more important. You realize after the words leave your mouth that you  _ could _ have offered to just not use your dick, since you don’t usually anyway. But before you can correct yourself, Kanaya says-

“No.” Firmly. “I Do Not.”

She rolls her tongue around behind pursed lips, like the words are a hard candy she’s trying to shave layers from.   


“I Want You To Be Gentle,” she says. There’s no timidity in her voice. This is a command. You nod.

“Of course, Kan. We go as slow as you need.”   


She smiles with genuine appreciation, then leans in close to your ear.

“And As Hard As I Want, If I Ask For It Later?”

“Uh, uh- uh-huh!” you stammer, feeling the temperature of your whole body rise by several degrees.

“Good.”

She nuzzles into your neck and slides up the length of your shaft one more time, forcing a moan out you that turns into-

“ _ Kan! _ ” you gasp. A sudden wave of guilt and doubt sweeps through you, reaching into your arm and pushing Kanaya off of your torso. Now it’s your turn to inhale sharply, and you let it out in a long  _ huff _ to give your heartbeat a chance to slow down.  _ “W-wait. _ ”

She blinks. “What?” It’s not angry, not disappointed, just confused. Maybe a little worried.

Some terrible, rational part of you has taken the mental stage, and is presently yelling into the microphone at your libido. You try to let your libido take control from your thinking brain again. You want to shut it up, to kick it out until later; you want  _ future _ you to have to deal with this shit. But Rational You is backed up by Guilty You and Anxious You, and those two are some big, mean motherfuckers.

“I…” you start. You almost shake it off, say “nevermind,” and pull Kanaya in again. Almost.

“I don’t want to hurt what we have,” you say, feeling ashamed. “Would this?”

Kanaya looks at you, considering. Her shoulders slump.

“I…” she starts. Her right arm slides up to rub her left. Her eyes wander off for a moment before she pulls them back, with some effort, to meet yours.

“I Do Not  _ Want _ It To,” she says firmly. “I Want To Do This With You.”

“Is this a thing moirails do?”

“Sometimes,” she says. “Many Trolls Think It Is Wholly Inappropriate. Others Believe It Is A Natural Outcome Of The Sort of Relationship, As, Well, Even Moirails Have  _ Needs _ .”

You force a laugh. “I guess that’s us.”

A realization dawns on you. “You know… I… I don’t care if it’s a thing other moirails do, Kan. I don’t. I don’t even care if it’s acceptable in troll society at all.”

You pause, expecting her to say something like “You Often Do Not Care About Societal Acceptability,” but she just waits patiently for you to finish.

“I care if it’s right for us. I care if it makes our moirallegiance better or if it hurts it. I can’t… I can’t fuck things up with you, Kan. I need you too much. I  _ want _ you in my life too much to risk hurting what we have.”

Kanaya’s smiling before you finish talking. She leans in and pecks you on the forehead. “This Is Why You Are My Moirail. You Say Everything I Am Thinking.”

“I also want to fuck you real bad, though.”

“Everything I Am Thinking.”

You snort in tandem. She wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you close as you both devolve into a fit of laughter.   


“I Was So Nervous When We Spoke Of It,” she says into your neck after the giggles subside. “But After We Began, I Knew… It Would Be Alright.”

“Just alright? It thought it was  _ great _ so far.”

She gives you a friendly slap on the shoulder. “You Know Very Well What I Mean.”

“I do. So let’s make the rest of it great, okay?”

“Okay,” she says softly. She glances down quickly, and you follow her gaze.

Ah.

“Need to get back in the mood a bit?” You grin, sliding your middle finger below her softening bulge and into her waiting nook.

“Mm-Hmm-Hm,” she murmurs in agreement.

An errant thought flits through your mind, and you whip one mental arm out to snag it like a kid hitting a fly at the end of a karate movie training montage. Your lips curl into a grin.

“Off,” you say, gently slapping Kanaya’s thigh. “You sit down.”

“O-Okay.”

You push the coffee table toward the other wall, less than concerned with the food and laptop sitting atop it. A single fork clatters off Kanaya’s plate, which you gingerly place back onto the china for Kanaya’s sake. You consider closing the laptop - the movie stopped playing long ago - but decide  _ strongly  _ that you don’t care. Instead, you kneel in front of Kanaya, pushing her legs apart at the knees. She looks at you with wide eyes, green spreading across her nose and cheeks as she realizes what you’re doing. You waggle your eyebrows once, and lock on to your target.

Oh,  _ God  _ yes.

Her bulge is half at attention, rising up between her legs, with the upper end curved down toward you. It glistens in the dim light with a combination of your fluids. Below it, her nook waits, the lips a beautifully asymmetrical shape, lips small, the left just a  _ tad _ thicker than the right. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You slide her bulge into your mouth. It’s salty, and a little sticky from the drying fluids, but definitely one of the better bulges you’ve encountered. Kanaya gasps and reflexively spreads her legs wider, knees quivering slightly as they reach as far as they’ll go. You glance up to get a better read; her eyes are fluttering closed, that fang creeping out over her lower lip. You’d smile if your mouth weren’t full of alien dick.

You pull back slowly, letting the tight suction of your lips slow your gliding tongue along the underside of her shaft until you release with an audible  _ smack _ . Kanaya shudders a little, but you can’t see her expression because you’ve already bent down to run your tongue up from the base. As soon as it hits the tip, you grip her bulge down around the base and dive back down on top. You immediately hit a furious tempo before slowing down to a more gentle rhythm. It’s hard to contain yourself, but you don’t want this to be over  _ too _ soon. Kanaya doesn’t seem to mind, either; her deep, relaxed breathing occasionally catches when you hit a particularly sensitive spot.

You give your mouth a break and let your hand do most of the work for a few moments before you lean in and roll your tongue around the tip of her bulge. You glance up at her to take stock; she’s almost whimpering as your hand glides up and down, her fingers clench the fabric of the couch.

“I- I,” she manages. “I Am Going To-”

You pull your mouth away and slow the tempo of your hand.

“Uh-uh,” you chide her. “Not yet, Kan.”

She whimpers again, then makes a sort of strangled groan. “You Are Very Cruel.”

You nod sagely. “I know.”

You kiss her on the tip. Then you slide a pair of fingers into her nook. She gasps. You chuckle.

You lightly squeeze her bulge and start again at a slow pace.

“You didn’t think I was gonna let you finish just like  _ that _ , did you?” You cluck your tongue. “Kan, if you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna cum  _ right _ .”

You crook your fingers along the rough patch of Kanaya’s inner wall in time with the speed of your other hand. You aren’t ambidextrous enough for anything more nuanced, but if your moirail is disappointed by your lack of superhuman finger agility, she’s certainly not showing it. Kanaya arches her back, dragging her horns against the drywall. Her mouth falls open and stays there as her legs twitch against the sides of the couch.

You pick up the pace, getting into a groove that is rewarded with moans and groans and spasms. The fingers inside Kanaya might already be starting to prune from the amount of fluid leaking onto the towel. A small stream starts down her bulge from the tip. You lean in and lick it up, kissing her bulge on the tip before sliding it into your mouth again. You speed up.

Your moirail buckles under this three-pronged assault, and you have to start applying pressure to keep her lower body from wiggling around the couch. She grabs a throw-pillow and holds it tight against her face, and a series of sounds like a boiling kettle trying to hold in its whistle make a muffled escape through the fabric. You keep the pace as steady as you can, ignoring any soreness or oncoming hand cramps in determination to finish. The precum and nook-juices flow in rivers onto the upholstery.

Kanaya’s body suddenly stops moving altogether, but it’s the calm before the storm. Her knees quiver and shake before she thrusts into your mouth, and you nearly gag in surprise. You refuse to stop, though, and double down the pressure on your moirail’s spasming form. A jumbled series of syllables gasp into the pillow, sounds not far removed from “Oh My God” and “Shit Shit Shit” and a “Fuck” that turns into a high-pitched whine. Then that whine abruptly cuts off, and a surge of something extra salty onto your tongue warns you of what’s about to happen. You pull your mouth off just in time for the first blast of cum to rocket past your face.

Kanaya’s entire body spasms and shakes. Her hips thrust and knees buckle, legs and arms quivering, head rolling back as her back tries to arch further and further upwards. Her nook tightens around your fingers in irregular convulsions. You flinch reflexively as thick, whitish cum erupts into the air, shooting a good two or three feet in the air, once, then twice, then followed by a third, less energetic but no less enthusiastic spurt. You’re pretty sure some of it landed in your hair, but that hardly matters to you right now.

What matters is your moirail, gasping and huffing in a heap in front of you. The pillow has fallen aside to the couch, along with her hands. In contrast to the furious motion just a few moments ago, her body is so limp that the only signs of life are her struggle to catch her breath and the green blush of heat that pervades her skin. There’s a heavy sheen of sweat, visible even with you in front of the laptop light.

  
A feeling of admiration swells up in your chest as you sit and watch your moirail slowly come to. You can’t quite tell if it’s admiration for her, or  _ of _ her, or of how you definitely  _ still got it _ . After a minute, she opens her eyes. They’re glazed over at first, but find their focus on you. She offers a weak, satisfied smile. You go to return a smile, and find that you already are.


	3. IN WHICH YOU ENJOY A BRIEF INTERLUDE

“Kan, could you, like, chill?”

“I CANNOT CHILL,” Kanaya shrieks, furiously dunking her mop into a water bucket before lifting it up to scrub the ceiling in a passion. “IT WILL LEAVE A STAIN, AND THEN WHAT WILL WE DO?”

“We’ll… have to explain the cumstain on the ceiling?”

Kanaya freezes. Slowly, deliberately, like a horror movie, she turns her head to look at you. Her eyes gleam wide in anger and panic.

“The Consequences Are Worse Than I Imagined,” she hisses quietly, before returning to scrub with renewed vigor.


	4. IN WHICH YOU BONE LIKE ALTERNIAN HOPBEASTS

The door to Kanaya’s room bursts open, and the sweaty tangle of bodies that is you and your moirail stumbles inside in a deep haze of heaving petting and sloppy snogging, nearly knocking over a tailor’s mannequin and a week of sewing in the process. The two of you stagger toward the forest-green sheets of your moirail’s bed. Kanaya starts to tug her shirt up over her head without breaking off from your lips, which only ends with her fuming in frustration as one of the sleeves gets stuck on her horn. You tug on the fabric until it pulls up a bit further, and push in to kiss her as soon as you can see her lips again. The shirt comes the whole way off and is uncharacteristically tossed aside without you even noticing.

Kanaya tips you back and you both fall fully onto the sheets with a little bounce and a squeak of the springs.  


You kiss and bite and suck at Kanaya’s exposed collarbone, eliciting gasps of pleasure and a little yelp of pain when you suck a bit too hard. You squeeze in a quick apology before continuing on the other side. You plan to leave bruises, which you intend to smugly eye over the next week in self-congratulation of your own handiwork, assuming Kanaya lets you see them.

It’s a test of your patience to kiss lightly, slowly down her chest toward her green-tinged nipples, at a pace meant to tease. But you were never great at tests, and you skip a fair few inches of teasable flesh to get right to sucking on her breast. She gasps again, harder than when you were working higher up, and her moans stutter as you lightly graze her nipple with your teeth.

You press your weight into your left arm, freeing the right to cup and squeeze Kanaya’s other breast. Between your legs, two members slide and quiver against each other, two dripping holes excitedly awaiting the possibility of being filled. Although presently your patience at the thought of  _ something _ not going inside  _ somewhere _ is comparable in quantity to the total amount of antimatter created by the human race, you manage to restrain yourself for the sake of foreplay.

For about two seconds.  


Then, as you slide down Kanaya’s body to position yourself more comfortably while playing with her breasts, her hips move in just such a way to press the opening of her nook against the tip of your dick. You both inhale sharply, and all thoughts of foreplay ollie right the fuck out of your head.

“Uh,” you gulp.

You look at each other for a long moment.

“Please Do It. Gently,” she adds quickly. Kanaya spreads her legs to give you space, and simultaneously wraps her arms around your back to pull your face closer to hers. You scramble to assume the appropriate position; knees dug into the sheets, elbows pressed to the outside of her arms, hips raised and, for lack of a better term,  _ cocked _ . You repeat the word in your mind: “Gentle, gentle, gentle.” You’re going to make sure your enthusiasm doesn’t get the better of what judgement you have left.

You push the tip of your dick against the wet lips of her nook and, with the equivalent anticipatory tension of Central Control awaiting word of the moon landing, slowly slide it in. Kanaya takes a full breath, mouth wide open, eyes shut. Her exhale is slow, staggered, and when she opens her eyes to look at you, it’s all love. She smiles. Central Control goes fucking ballistic in celebration.

You can’t stand another moment not kissing her. As your lips meet, the motion pushes your member just the smallest distance further in. Kanaya grunts, and you’re unsure if it’s in surprise or pain or both, but the voraciousness with which she returns your kiss tells you not to concern yourself with it. Still, another voice in the back row of your mental theater reminds you not to lose yourself in the passion. Your moirail wants gentle, so your moirail gets gentle.

You lever your hips forward, slowly, deliberately. Once again, her mouth opens in response to the feeling, as though ready for a sound that never quite comes. Your jaw drops a little, too; she feels amazing. It’s hard to quantify the feeling of being inside someone like that. You know some nooks are better than others for reasons you can’t fully articulate, though, really, you’ve never tried. And Kanaya’s like… well, you’ll figure out the words when the word-part of your brain stops moaning.

But while the physical feeling is fucking incredible, there’s a level of connection that you’re only just recognizing. Every point of contact between your skin and hers feels like it’s alight with a supernal warmth. Your hands, your arms, your chests, your stomachs, your thighs, your lips, your cheeks, where her bulge is pressing hard into your torso, and yes, the length of your dick; there’s a fire in them that’s got a hold on your bodies, turning you to liquid and melting you into each other in the most wonderful way. You want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything. Being two separate people, even this close, even literally inside one another, is just  _ not close enough _ .

Kanaya must feel the same way, because she pulls in you as best as she is able, her mouth open against yours, her tongue seeking as far inside you as it can go. You feel a sudden pressure on your lower back and butt as her legs wrap around you. Her hips wiggle in time with her legs in a very effective show at pushing your dick in to the base. It’s a request.

You don’t need to be asked twice. Keeping your promise in mind, you start to rock your hips slowly against hers. You slide part of the way out of her nook and then in again, and out, and in, and out, and in. Kanaya’s horns scrape against the mattress as her head falls back, her breath catching a little every time you push the whole way in. Something between a groan and a whine escapes her, the kind of sound you would expect to end with a heart symbol if this were one of  _ those _ comics that you like to read.

You keep the tempo going, slow and soft and loving. Every part of Kanaya is still pushing into you as far as she can go, the unreasonable barrier that is “being made of matter” a heightening frustration that you would do anything to overcome. She enjoys the motion for a minute or more, before she looks up at you with half-lidded eyes and a fang-exposing half-smile. Her face looks to you what an angelic choir must sound like. She shines with love and sweat and more love.

“You May Go A Little Faster If You Wish,” she says weakly. “Not… Not Too Much.”

“Of course, Kanaya” you say, smiling back. Her eyes flit from one of yours to the other, and something stirs behind them. She pulls you down so that she can reach your neck. She kisses you, once, twice, three times, before she’s up to your ear.

“Please Continue To Say My Name Like That,” she whispers.

“Like what?”   


“Like…” She nuzzles your neck with her nose before bringing her lips back to your ear. “Like You Always Do.”

Your smile broadens.

“Of course, Kanaya,” you whisper sweetly into her ear, and you feel her shiver a little when you do.

You rock your hips into her again and pick up where you left off, adjusting the tempo just slightly, as requested. You kiss up and down her neck, her cheeks, her forehead. You tease her with light kisses, mouth to mouth, before pulling away; she pushes her head up to catch your escaping lips, and you lightly bite and pull on her lower lip. She gasps. Then she makes an adorable little whine, pleading with puckered lips. You acquiesce; and kiss her deep and satisfactorily.  


It’s not long before you feel something extra-sticky seeping against your stomach. Kanaya’s bulge leaks that strange troll liquid in little spurts and starts. You take this as your cue to make each thrust longer and stronger than the last; still slow, still gentle, but with a deliberateness and power that leaves your moirail moaning and her body twitching in pleasure. On your last reversal, you hold for a moment with only the tip inside her. Then, you make one final long, strong slide as far as you can go. Kanaya’s back arches as her moan gets cut short by a gasp.

“Do you want to get on top?”

“I… Can Attempt.”

You both scramble to reverse positions, which is as quick as it is awkward. After something akin to an impromptu game of Twister, Kanaya straddles your hips. WIth one hand on your chest, she uses the other to position your dick underneath her. It takes a couple of tries to get it right, and you assure your embarrassed lover that sex like this always includes a couple of missed holes.

When she does get it, Kanaya slides onto you a little too far, a little too fast, and you both gasp from the sudden spike of pleasure. After you both recover, Kanaya plants both hands firmly on your chest, leans down, and pecks you on the lips.

“How Do I Do This?” she asks.

“Just…” You think about it for a moment. “Just move your hips so it feels good.”

Not the most concrete suggestion you’ve ever made, but Kanaya takes it and begins to rock her hips back and forth on top of you. You don’t feel much at first, as she just seems to be grinding into you - which would be a lot more effective if you weren’t already inside of her. You decide to give her a little help.

You lightly slide your hands up her legs, only putting pressure on when you reach her hips. Digging your heels into the bed for leverage, you start to rock your hips inversely to hers so that each time she rocks up, you rock down. A moment of confusion passes over her face before it’s replaced by a mixture of surprise and intense enjoyment the moment you rock your hips toward each other. She lets out a little yelp, and you have to stifle a giggle. God, she’s so cute.

You keep your hands on her hips to guide her for a few more thrusts. When you’re confident she’s got the rhythm down, you slide one hand around her to bulge, which is positively leaking with juices. There’s enough that the puddle on your belly is overflowing to the bed on either side. The first time you had sex with a troll you were surprised by the overload of fluids compared to humans, but over time you’ve become a lot more comfortable with it.

It takes a bit of coordination to give her bulge and her nook the attention they need, but even with a couple of tempo hiccups you manage a good compromise. A compromise, in this case meaning lubing up her bulge with its own fluids and then jerking it furiously and without regard for tempo, only needing to worry about what your hips are doing. Kanaya’s shaking arms and increasing volume give you the impression she’s enjoying the process.

There’s a surprising burst of pleasure as Kanaya picks up the pace. You race to keep up as she starts a vivacious bounce which makes it a lot harder to focus on whatever it was you were doing with your hand. What were you doing with your hand? Oh, right! You strengthen your limpened grasp on her bulge and pump at twice the speed of your hips. But keeping consistent is a futile effort; every couple of bounces, some especially-sensitive part of you collides with her nook, and you find yourself in a losing battle against the moans and groans escaping you.

You moan her name without meaning to. You’re not sure if she even noticed; she’s so lost in the motion that she doesn’t respond. Her hands press hard into your chest for support, her whole body shaking as hard as yours. An errant thought about wishing someone could be in  _ your  _ “nook” right now gets pushed out of your head when another burst of pleasure wipes your mental slate clean.

There’s a pressure rising somewhere in you that you can’t quite place. Your body tenses in fits and starts and bits and pieces, as though it was gearing up for action but someone wasn’t clear on the schedule. Everything’s turning hazy behind your eyelids; any sensation, any perception that isn’t your moirail disappears into the vacuous nothing where the rest of the world resides.

“I Am…” Kanaya gasps. “I Am…”

But no sound comes out, the words caught in her throat by a sudden spasm through her body. She quakes on top of you. Her arms give out and slide off your chest, and you would realize later that you very nearly had a dangerous collision with the barb on her horn as her head drops down. A singular, high-pitched note escapes her, like she’s straining to scream but can’t get it past her throat.

The cum from her bulge splatters across your stomach and chest in a great burst. Then a second, and a third, and a fourth, and good  _ God _ you are not focused enough to count past four right now. Some droplets of translucent fluid leap toward your face, but you don’t give a single fuck.

It’s at this moment that the pressure inside you reaches a boiling point.

“ _ Kan _ ,” you gasp desperately, the sudden weakness in your arms and legs too much to handle. Your hips jerk and spasm just like your lover, pressing up into her as you reach climax with one thrust, then two, then three. Someone hits the pressure valve and you go off inside your moirail with an energy normally reserved for desperate survival. And truthfully, you feel like you might die if you don’t cum  _ right now _ .

Moments pass in a blur of gasping and sweat and the slow rebooting of your brains back to consciousness. Your senses seem to turn on one at a time as you come back to the room and the reality contained therein. Kanaya’ lays limp on top of you without regard for the sticky layer of alien cum between you, her face buried in the sheets next to yours. For time unknowable you both just lay there, catching your breath and bathing in the satisfaction of the moment.

Eventually, you wrap your arms around her back. Then, she slides her arms around your neck and burrows her face into your hair. You lay like that for some time more, having revived to enough of the world to get lost again, this time in the connection and warmth of your partner. When you no longer feel like you need to suck in air like you were drowning, you nuzzle into her neck and kiss her lightly, up and down. She turns her head when you get to her cheek and giggles when you kiss her on the tip of the nose. She kisses yours in return.  


You press your foreheads together and laugh.


	5. IN WHICH YOU FIND SOMETHING SPECIAL

Sex didn’t change things between you and Kanaya… but that’s because in the grand scheme of things, sex isn’t all that big a deal. You realized that what seemed both so scary and tantalizing was really the least important part of what happened that night. No, what’s truly huge is that your moirail and you became aware of the depths of the connection that was already there, and had been there for a very long time. 

It’s a true and wonderful connection, one you both understand even if you don’t quite know what to call it. It doesn’t quite fit what you know of “human love,” and it certainly does fit neatly into the quadrants. Maybe someday you’ll figure out a good title, but for now, you call yourselves what you’ve called yourselves for years, but with a whole new dimension of understanding and meaning. You call yourselves:

“Us.”


End file.
